One Can Repent Even Of Having Repented.

Art, In The Widest Sense Of The Word, Is The Instrument Hellenism Has Used And Would Use For That Purpose. All The Arts, Poetry, Music, Ritual, The Visual Arts, The Theatre, Must Work Singly And Together To Create The Most Comprehensive Art Of All, A Humanized Society, And Its Masterpiece, The Free Man.

I Would Willingly Stand At Street Corners, Hat In Hand, Begging Passerby To Drop Their Unused Minutes Into It.

I Walk In The Garden, I Look At The Flowers And Shrubs And Trees And Discover In Them An Exquisiteness Of Contour, A Vitality Of Edge, Or A Vigour Of Spring, As Well As An Infinite Variety Of Colour That No Artefact I Have Seen In The Last Sixty Years Can Rival...each Day, As I Look, I Wonder Where My Eyes Were Yesterday.

It Was A Morning In Early Summer. A Silver Haze Shimmered And Trembled Over The Lime Trees. The Air Was Laden With Their Fragrance. The Temperature Was Like A Caress. I Remember - I Need Not Recall - That I Climbed Up A Tree Stump And Felt Suddenly Immersed In Itness. I Did Not Call It By That Name. I Had No Need For Words. It And I Were One.

Boast Is Always A Cry Of Despair, Except In The Young It Is A Cry Of Hope.